


necrologium

by Guu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Coda, Coping Mechanisms, Gen, Loss, Pain, Post-Canon, War, canon copliant, rex deals with the aftermath of the crash, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:40:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24989938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guu/pseuds/Guu
Summary: After burying his fallen brothers with Ahsoka's help, Rex is stranded in a moment of hopelessness.or, my very bleak explanation to rex's armor tally marks.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	necrologium

Ahsoka is still by the makeshift cemetery when the light starts to dwindle, and even though the thermometer reading on his gauntlet tells Rex the temperature is decreasing— _worryingly_ so—, all his body can register is a kind of bone-deep numbness. He feels the chill as some sort of far away, out-of-body experience. Like it's happening to someone else.

A migraine is brewing somewhere on the back of his head when the fatigue finally kicks in. His muscles ache from the cold and the grief and the exertion of burying body after body after body.

Brother after brother.

After brother.

The dust and the smoke are settling around them and Rex sighs, shaking his head. There is nothing else on this desolate moon other than this wreckage, him, Ahsoka and so many kriffin' _ghosts._

The silence is all-encompassing. All consuming. Not a word has been spoken on this moon. On this desolate, useless, force-forsaken, kriffing moon.

Rex shakes his head again, hoping _this time_ it'll chase away the white noise ringing in his ears. It doesn't look like Ahsoka will be returning to the Y-wing any time soon, and Rex doesn't feel like arguing right now, so he climbs to the cockpit of the rickety ship and takes a deep breath.

He has this system, you see. Cody taught him, years ago— _oh, force, Cody._

No.

Focus.

Rex takes a deep breath.

He has this system. He keeps track. Not of every fallen brother, but the ones he fought with, his closest friends. His men.

He whispers their names as he rummages through his backpack for something sharp, and visualizes every tally mark on his armor. _Denal. Havoc. Coric._ He knows exactly which death each one of them represents. _Appo. Kano. Hawk._ Kix called it a coping method, whatever that meant. _Charger. Redeye. Mixer._

He finds a little pocket knife and releases the blade. It makes a _ping_ sound that reverberates in the small cockpit, and Rex stares at the little blade, realizing he doesn't have enough room in all of his armor to represent what has transpired today.

_The entire Grand Army of the Republic._

This realization, though obvious in hindsight, takes him by surprise.

He opens his mouth, perhaps to say something, but what tears through his throat is a sound so loud and broken that for a second he's not sure it came from him. Something else must have made it. Something feral, something wounded. An animal, cornered, awaiting its inevitable demise.

Something that presses against his chest so hard it takes the air off his lungs, and takes root in his heart as he struggles to breathe, as he gasps, as he says their names.

_Echo._

_Hardcase._

_Tup._

His eyes sting and he hears the same sound, shrill, again. Weaker this time. His own sobs filling the tiny cockpit.

_Fives._

He takes the little knife. There is a row of 4 scratches on his left arm plate.

_Jesse._

He crosses one more over them.

——

**Author's Note:**

> I'm... sorry! I didn't set out to write something so somber but uh. it kinda went that way. Thanks for reading, if you wanna chat about clone wars, you can find me on tumblr (guusana) or twitter (guuetche).


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